When the Clock Strikes Twelve
by Riika Duskraven
Summary: Six years have passed since he left. He's never lost hope, though. Not even once. He knew that he was out there somewhere and he knew he would come back. He promised. He thought of that promise, the one that would bring him back from wherever he was now, all the time. But no time more heavily than when he sat alone, thinking of how things could have been if only he had stopped him.


R: Salutations.

Cat: Hello, nya~

R: As I'm sure most of you know, Saturday was Shion's birthday. So I wrote this to celebrate. I meant for it to be done on Saturday but I got sidetracked and ended up spending some time with my step-mom and so, I didn't have time to finish it until today. That being said, hope you enjoy this cute little story.

Cat: Wow, Riika, you sound almost happy.

R: I can't say I am. But I wouldn't necessarily say that I am particularly unhappy.

Cat: Good enough.

Disclaimer:: Neither Riika nor Cat owns NO. 6 or its characters.

* * *

"Daddy?" The young girl's voice cut through the darkness like a knife.

He shifted, turning to look over the back of the couch. "Yes, dear?"

The child sniffled and ran across the room, swinging around the arm of the couch to launch herself into his arms. Tears streaked her cheeks and she sniffled again. "Daddy!"

He wrapped her in a gentle embrace, running a hand through her hair to calm her. "Was it another nightmare?" She nodded against his chest. "Wanna tell me about it?"

She sniffled, leaning back to look up at him with wide chestnut eyes. She nodded slightly, shifting so she sat more comfortably on his lap. "Momma and daddy were arguing with Uncle Rikiga again. Then there was a crash and people filled the hotel and they..." she hiccupped, "they attacked you and... and there was lots of blood and... and then papa was there." His eyes widened slightly but he kept silent so she could continue. "He fought off all the bad guys but he... he couldn't save you, daddy... Why couldn't papa save you, daddy? You said he always saved you..." she trailed off, hiccuping again.

He was silent for a minute, taking that moment to try to calm her heavy breathing. "It was only a nightmare, Ran," he reassured her. "Papa's always there to save me. He wouldn't let me get hurt. And he wouldn't let momma get hurt either," he told her, brushing the fresh tears from her eyes.

She nodded and yawned, snuggling against him and taking comfort in the familiarity of the action. He held her close, waiting patiently for her to fall asleep again. He carried her back to her room again once she was finally out and tucked her into bed. He kissed her forehead and moved towards the door. "Good night, Ran," he whispered as he pulled the door to her bedroom shut.

He let out a sigh as he returned to the living room. _That's the third time she's had a nightmare this week,_ he thought as he sat on the couch again. _I wonder why_. He leaned back, arms behind his head. He turned to see the clock. The red light of the clock on the end table flashed 11:32 pm. He stared up at the ceiling again, his mind going through what she had told him about her nightmare again. _She keeps having dreams about him. She's never even seen him, not even a picture. Not that I have any pictures to show her. Still, I can't help but wonder how she knows it was him... _He glanced at the clock again. 11:43. He was sure she was asleep by now and figured she probably wouldn't wake again to nightmares. He made his way to the door, slipping on his boots and his coat before silently slipping out of the house.

* * *

It was chilly for early September, but he didn't mind. The chill felt nice after the heat of the summer. He tucked his hands in his pockets as he walked towards the center of town. His destination wasn't far, he'd be there before midnight. The streets were relatively empty, only a couple of people remaining as they walked home from work. He could only assume it was work. It was a Wednesday, after all. He spotted a young couple, tucked just inside an alley, tongues caught together in a fierce battle. There was a man older than himself talking into a phone, a briefcase swinging in his other hand. He noticed was an old woman. She must have been in her eighties and she was sitting all alone on a bench directly under a street light. She seemed to working on something, her focus trained on her project. He wondered why she was out here all alone in the cold, but he fought the urge to stop. If he was going to make it where he was going by midnight, he didn't really have time to talk.

He was close to the old woman when he saw something small and silver fall to the ground from her lap. He bent and picked it up. "You dropped this," he said, handing it back to her.

She took the needle from him but held onto his hand. She pressed the piece of cloth she had worked on into his hand and closed his fingers over it. "When the clock strikes twelve," she told him. She let go of his wrist and turned back to her work, tightening a new piece of cloth over the circle and banding it in place.

He stared in confusion at his hand then glanced back up at her. "What does that mean?" But she offered no explanation. She acted as if he had already left, pulling the threaded needle through the fabric over and over. He sighed and resumed his walk, keeping the small square of cloth held carefully in his hand.

He reached the town hall and looked up to see the clock read 11:57. He had made it. He went to the back of the building and found the ladder he had put up. He climbed it carefully up to the roof and then easily walked up the small set of sets to the clock tower. He sat on the edge, his legs dangling down. He leaned against the pillar, feeling the world spin below him as he looked out over the town. He enjoyed the view. The city he had buillt was beautiful, the lights twinkling like stars in the sky. Six years of work had paid off, giving him a sense of satisfaction.

But it was a hollow feeling, knowing that the reason he had done this still wasn't a part of it all. "I bet he would love it, this city I built for him." He sighed, his thoughts all turning back to the past where he spent his time in a little underground room with the person who meant everything to him.

The bells rang out, signaling the hour. He remembered the cloth the old woman had given him and he carefully unfolded it. He was amazed at the detail, every little thing was correct. In the bottom right corner there were the three mice, Hamlet, Cravat, and Moonlit, all perched on a sphere at different sides, their tails twining together off to the fourth side, the one closest to the actual corner of the cloth. The sphere was outlined with a thick band of storm grey that faded into crimson as it circled around. Inside the sphere was a copy of Romeo and Juliet, opened up to a page from Act II. He could actually make out words in the little picture until they got too small to read. He was too impressed to speak.

Then confusion overtook him again. _How did she know about this?_ he wondered. He glanced down again at the cloth, so captivated by its mystery that he didn't hear the footsteps on the stairs behind him. He didn't detect the presence of another on the tower with him. The last bell toll rang out and fell silent, giving him only the whisper of wind and the faint beating of his heart to listen to.

"Happy birthday, Shion"

The voice caught him off guard and for a second he thought he was going to fall off the little ledge, but the pillar he leaned against was more than enough to support him. He turned ever so slowly to see a dark, hooded shape on the other side of the little tower, the four or so feet of distance between them seemed like a hundred to him at that moment. The hooded figure reached up a slender hand and pushed back its hood to reveal blue-black hair pulled back into a ponytail and stormy grey eyes focused directly on him. His crimson orbs widened in shock and his words stuck in his throat.

The raven-haired boy closed the distance between them, sitting beside the albino as he looked out over the city. "You did a good job," he said, sincerity in his tone.

"I built it for you. So you'd have a place to call home," he explained with a sheepish smile.

He looked to see the other already staring at him. He didn't have a chance to question it when his lips were captured in a kiss. It was gentle, hesitant, wondering. His stunned reaction lasted only a second as he returned the kiss with long-awaited acceptance. With reluctance, they broke contact.

The ravenette smirked and wrapped the other in a gentle embrace. "I'm home," he whispered.

The albino shifted so that their eyes locked. He smiled, a genuine smile that had been missing for so long. "Welcome home, Nezumi." He closed the small gap between their lips. This was a different kind of kiss. It was passionate and spoke the words he knew that the other wouldn't likely say any time soon. There was no question about who was in control, he didn't even try. It wasn't really worth it, he knew he'd lose anyways. But he didn't mind. All he really cared about was that he had his Nezumi back.

* * *

R: So that's it. I hope you like it. Reviews and requests are loved. Don't know who I write for? Ask and I'll let you know.

Cat: See you next story, nya~

R: Farewell for now.


End file.
